“Still,” insisted Amélie, “if it would not annoy you, I should like to open the window.”
“Do so, my child.”
Amélie rose hastily to profit by this permission, and went with tottering steps to a window opening upon the garden. After it was opened, she stood leaning against the sill, half-hidden by the curtains.
“Ah!” she said, “I can breathe here.”
Sir John rose to offer her his smelling-salts, but Amélie declined hastily: “No, no, my lord. Thank you, but I am better now.”
“Come, come,” said Roland, “don’t bother about that; it’s our boar.”
“Well, Monsieur Louis, we will fetch your boar tomorrow.”
“That’s it,” said the second peasant, “to-morrow morning, when it’s light.”
“But to go there at night—”
“Oh! to go there at night—”